


Soul Train

by SilverMangooo



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Changing POVs, Character Death, F/F, Fluff, Life - Freeform, Real Or Nah, Romance, Special Endings, Spirits, You'll figure out why if I update, chuulip bffs, chuuves - Freeform, lipsoul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMangooo/pseuds/SilverMangooo
Summary: Each living soul deals with heartbreak, loss, and pain differently. But right when Jungeun thought she had already gone through all the search results, online articles, psychology websites, and thirty-minute long videos, she gets proven wrong once again.Her trusted and ever-so-optimistic best friend, Jiwoo, was sick and tired of seeing life sucked out of her, so she spat out the most ridiculous, nonsensical, downright absurd suggestion to have ever been thought of (in Jungeun’s eyes, anyway).“... Are you serious?”Jiwoo shrugged. “… we don’t have to go with it if you don’t-”“I’m down.”
Relationships: Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Kim Jiwoo | Chuu, Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Drive Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Lipsoul ft. life. Trying a different format in my work for the first time. Let's go!

The entire scenario was completely out of Jungeun’s expectations. She wasn’t sure if she had inherited bad luck or someone possessed a voodoo doll of her and put a lifelong curse on it, but life was at its worst at the time. If she could, she would end it right then and there. 

Except she couldn’t. If anything, she had to continue living whether she liked it or not. 

It started when Jinsol got into an accident one night, weeks after working overtime. Something about wanting to save up for their future mansion, and 24-carat wedding rings and elegant wedding dresses with their ten other best friends screaming, crying, and cheering for them as they walk down the soft sands of a private beach and kiss at the handmade altar. 

Still, she wanted to unwind, to go back to the free life she used to have. 

She had her phone and texted Jungeun about it so she wouldn’t worry and force herself to stay up and wait - after all, Jungeun was an early sleeper and riser. 

**To: Love <3 **

_hey, just got off work. i wanna grab a drink or two and unwind, so… don’t worry about me, ok? i’ll be back home soon, i promise._

Jungeun jolted awake from the buzzing of her phone. The time read 1 A.M., and she let out a sigh. She was frustrated, on the verge of crying, and obviously lonely. When was the last time she cuddled with Jinsol, the last time she made out with her, let alone had a peck? She couldn’t remember. 

With furrowed brows and a frown on her lips, her fingers typed away. 

**To: LoveLoveLove**

_Who are you with? Can’t you just buy a drink from the store and drink here? How will you drive back home if you’re wasted?_

Jinsol was quick to reply. 

**To: Love <3 **

_i’m on my own. and, nah. i’m getting free shots!_

_… love, you gotta stop being such a mom sometimes._

**To: LoveLoveLove**

_OK. Sorry. I just miss you. Come back soon. My world’s been empty without you._

_Oh, and drive safe. I love you._

**To: Love <3 **

_it’s fine. i miss you too. haha, it’s past your bed time. go to sleep, cutie. dream of me!_

_i love you too._

So, she slept without realizing that it would be the last time she would ever get in touch with Jinsol. 

The sun was up at 6 A.M. and the bed was still empty. 

“Empty just like that promise,” she muttered groggily. She dialed her number. 

No answer. 

Her heart began to beat in a messy, irregular pattern. She took a deep breath to convince herself she was simply worrying. Like always. So she tried again. 

Nothing. 

Dead air. 

Closing her eyes for a minute, her mind generated the numerous possibilities. Jinsol could have been sleeping with someone else, at a friend’s home, on the sidewalk; or her phone might have simply ran out of battery. 

She continued her monologue in her head, in hopes that maybe, there were actual telepathic signals between soulmates to send her a message. 

_Worst case scenario: she’s in an accident, but she knew what she was doing, right… God, Jung Jinsol, I hope you didn’t drink too much. You better be back home tonight. I miss you, like you don’t even fucking understand._

She continued on with her productive day, with those thoughts lingering in the back of her head even if she didn’t want them to. It wasn’t until she got a call from a number she didn’t save that reality slapped her in the face. 

If she wasn’t at her workplace, she would’ve had a breakdown right then and there. But her pride kept the fragile pieces of her heart intact (though the pain would take over sooner than she would want to). 

How does one deal with loss? It was one thing to lose a partner through a breakup or a friend over some petty argument. It was a different thing to lose a prized possession. Because with those, new people come, and new things can be bought. But the same couldn’t be applied when they will never ever be there anymore. Jungeun found it amusing, how death was the only thing that had “forever”. 

She had never hated everything so much until that day. 

“I’ll be there. Alright. Thanks.” Jungeun hung up right away and told her manager she had to go. Fortunately, there were still some good in the world. So she ran to her car and drove off to the hospital Jinsol was in. 

A bitter laugh escaped her lips after glancing at her puffy eyes on the rearview mirror. Like a habit, she muttered to herself again angrily. “Am I in a TV show? And those above are watching? Fuck you for taking her away. There’s no way she’s really gone… right?” 

So close. 

The urge to drive herself off to the nearest bottomless pit was slowly increasing. 

Not getting to embrace her warm and slender body, no longer being able to show and tell Jinsol the love she felt for her, not hearing that sweet voice one last time... the world worked in evil ways. Life always played a foul game, but it never was once called out for its horrible tactics, so Jungeun continued to get beaten up and she wanted it to stop. 

Looking at the cold, pale, motionless body hurt so much. She wished it was a mere nightmare and that she didn’t hear her alarm going off for the third time. But it wasn’t. The truth can be subjective, so she wanted her own version to be happier, to be the most idealistic and delusional truth there was despite being someone who had her feet on the ground all the time. 

But she knew. 

It wouldn’t change a thing. 

She knew. 

The harsh fact was laid bare in front of her. 

Silent tears streamed down her face. “You idiot… you could’ve just come home and drank next to me in bed.” Although she was spewing what seemed like words full of unsaid anger and irritation, words that would be written in blood-like red ink, she still loved her. Deep down, she was void of any color, yet her mind was a mess. 

_We’ll meet again. Wait for me, love._


	2. The Process

The first few months were the most painful and exhausting to deal with. Lost my soulmate and myself. Left my job because life was stressful enough and adding work on top of it? Madness. Thankfully, Jiwoo was kind enough to let me live in with her and make sure I wouldn’t do anything to myself. 

Get yourself a lifetime friend like Jiwoo if you have the chance. A lifesaver. I owe her my entire life. 

I was in shambles spending the remaining sixty years of my life without her. I tried everything to cope. To heal. To forget. 

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Those were the common stages of grieving, except I doubt anyone goes through it step by step because the moment she left, I went through the first four stages simultaneously. I had no time to breathe and process what happened. It was call after call, a stream of messages sending their condolences and telling me to stay strong… next thing you know, I was waking up to an empty home - the same state it was the day she left. 

My soul was full of hatred towards the world, towards the God people spoke so highly of; I resented _her_ for not thinking twice, because I wouldn’t be suffering for the rest of my life had she returned home instead. 

Scolding her - as if it could change anything - was so, _so easy_. Blaming someone else besides yourself? One of humans’ best talents. “Jung Jinsol, you idiot! Jinsol, why didn’t you think about how _I_ felt? Jinsol, we would’ve been living our best lives right now if you didn’t leave.” 

Jinsol _this_ , Jinsol _that_. 

It was cruel. I didn’t think I carried such hatred towards someone I loved, someone who I planned to get married to. After that, I realized I wasn’t furious about this world, Him, nor her. In the end, the pent up frustration and anger was all for myself. 

“Why didn’t I save her? I could have and I should have. But I didn’t. I could’ve accompanied her and carried her drunk ass home. But I didn’t and now she’s gone.” 

Tormenting thoughts echoed in my head at times I didn’t need them to, so I looked for ways to shut myself up. 

One: Text. 

I texted her number from time to time. A stranger will have that number someday, but that didn’t matter. 

Simple things like “I love you”, “Have you eaten today?”, “Take care. Come home soon!”. Obviously it was a one-sided conversation. Obviously only blue bubbles on my end occupied the screen. Obviously she isn’t here anymore and I have no way of talking to her because spirits do not exist. (That, and I’d like to think she turned into sparkly blue stardust or reborn into a cute fish in a tiny pond - not some lingering soul that watched me cry). 

I would pretend she was at work. Delusional? Absolutely. But it felt great. Relieving, almost. Except when I get reminded that our last interaction was through text, then it became tormenting. 

_If you have the chance to talk to someone, do it before it’s too late._

Two: The Internet. 

Run a private account with no one following you and talk to yourself about whatever or whoever. It was nice for people like me who would rather run into all sorts of trouble instead of running to a friend (Jiwoo) - eyes red, nose blocked and voice quivering like the weakling I am. 

Not just that. I watched videos like: “The Grieving Process: Coping with Death”, “How to Deal With Loss or Grief of Loved Ones”, “How Grief Affects Your Brain And What To Do About It”; endless articles about the said topic, songs that trigger the tears (how my tear ducts manage to produce so much, I have no idea). 

_You can’t keep running away._

Three: Opening Up. 

_One hundred and fifty-two days and forever more to go._

Being forced open like a locked door, anyway. Ever since Jinsol left for good, I lost touch with reality and everything the world has to offer. “Get some fresh air!”, “Expose yourself to sunlight!” - yeah, yeah. _Easy for you to say,_ I’d scoff. Yes, my mental state was nowhere near sane, but I wasn’t stupid. Tell me to “stop being sad”, why don’t you. 

Anyway, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

Not when the sun, trees, the soothing breeze, and happy couples reminded me of her and what we could’ve been. 

Next thing you know, Jiwoo tried barging into “my” room like the FBI one day. (The violence was unnecessary. I probably forgot to lock it anyway. I forget many things nowadays.) 

With her black belt, she could break anything including the steel doors guarding my heart. Behind that cute exterior was pure strength and burning determination. 

What Jiwoo wants, Jiwoo gets. “Kim Jungeun, get out of there or I’ll break that door!” Usually she spoke with the most adorable voice that even I, of all people, can’t say “no” to. Not that day, though. 

The slightly more playful side of me wanted to test the waters a little more. “Oh yeah? That a threat?” I snickered because she was going to whoop my sorry ass without a doubt. “Do it! It’s technically your door, so-” 

Loud footsteps - more like quick stomps - made their way across the polished, wooden floor. _So, she’s serious and I’m dead._ One loud bang after another, I began to feel sorry for the door frame, its cracks sounded like groans, shrieks, and a cry for help, so I opened it before anything terrible happened. 

“It was unlocked and I was kidding, _Chomp_.” 

“So was I, _Lippie_.” 

_Sure you were._

“What do you want from me?” Now we got to the real question. 

She gently pushed me inside my room, looking at me with worried eyes. Whether she was about to cry, I wouldn’t know. I’ve always been terrible with reading people. And god, she did that pouting thing again. The air in my messy room was slightly suffocating as each second went by. “I’ve been hitting you up even when we live in the same space. No response. The few times I tried coming in, you left me hanging. And with how loud you blasted your ballads and lungs out, I knew you were in there, bawling your eyes out.” That was exactly what I was up to. “Still... nothing.” It was then I realized why she visited me, but I let her vent. “It’s been months, Jungie. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you can’t cope. Let me in. That’s it - nothing more..” 

My brain was processing all that emotional rambling. How do you respond to that? What should you do when your best friend looked like she was about to crumble down to the ground like a sad, withering flower? 

A hug? An apology for being a closed-off douche? What does one do in these situations? 

“Okay.” _That’s it?! You paused and gave it some thought… only to say that?_

Sweet, tiny Jiwoo wrapped her arms around me. My brain was on auto-pilot so my right arm awkwardly returned the hug. Words finally left my mouth. My voice was barely a whisper. My eyes looked soulless. Empty. Lifeless. “You know… if we could meet once more, that’d be great.” And that was the most I’d probably open up. Ever. Any more than that and my brain will turn into mush. 

Jiwoo had an idea. She always does, and I trust her and the optimism that never seemed to run out. But _god_ , when she spat out the most ridiculous, nonsensical, downright absurd suggestion… I wanted to leave her outside of my room again. 

“You know my girlfriend, Sooyoung, right?” That frown turned into a grin so quick, I was shaking. 

“Your hot girlfriend from Busan? Yeah. Why?” 

She rolled her eyes, but that smile definitely said something else. “She can help you with meeting her again.” Before I could begin debunking anything, she continued, “Her family line - ah, how do I say this… they can do spirit channeling, Sooyoung included. I’ve seen them do their thing with my own eyes.” Her eyes widened, perhaps in order to convince me to go with her plan. “I know, I know… you’re thinking ‘That’s not a real thing,’ and I’m sure you wanna kick me out right now, but I’m sick of seeing you… like this.” 

With my eyes red, nose blocked, and voice nasally and quivering every time I spoke. _Must be an ugly sight._ I envisioned what I looked like from God’s point of view. Gross. 

“Are you serious?” 

Shrugging, she opened the door and looked me in the eye. “You’re desperate for something, anything, so I gave you a suggestion. We don’t have to go with it if you don’t-” 

We would usually end up arguing. Again, what Jiwoo wants, Jiwoo gets. As for me, on a normal day, I’d argue back because admitting defeat or any form of emotional vulnerability was the last thing on my seventy, eighty, hundred years’ agenda. If it was a normal day, I would have shaken my head, laughed it off, and moved on. 

But it wasn’t one of those days. Ever since that day, the Earth is flat, the sky's the ground we walk on, and the words I speak make no sense. My pride disappeared a long time ago. What else have I got to lose when I already lost the best thing that ever happened to me? 

“I’m down.” 

A delighted gasp pierced through the walls and she hugged me once more. “Thanks for trusting me, Jungie. I’ll tell Sooyoung about it and let you know the details later, okay?” 

“Alright.” 

“You’ll be happy again, I promise.” She stuck out her right pinky finger. A tradition we had as children stuck with us even as grown-ups. Some things never change. 

I didn’t say anything else. I simply returned the promise and I swore some sort of emotion made its way into my dark eyes. A feeling that wasn’t disbelief, the lack of excitement, nor anger. 

For once, I was hopeful again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Update before New Year's," I said. L M A O. Oh yeah, changing POVs. Never done that before, so it feels nice to try it out. Anyway, I won’t make any promises because the next one will take a long while. Just because. (Donate some brain power pls, I need A LOT) 
> 
> Feel free to comment! Or talk to me about anything here:
> 
> Twitter: @hyejubit
> 
> CC: @hyejuju
> 
> Finally, LOONA 1ST WIN! How we feelin’, fam? <3 Love you. 

**Author's Note:**

> How we feelin'?! Yeah, I almost never finish chaptered stories, but I'll make it 2020's goal to finish this. If anything's going on, feel free to talk to me! 
> 
> Twitter: @hyejubit 
> 
> CC: @hyejuju 
> 
> See you soon. <3


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